


Gyftmas in July?

by tiedyeflag



Series: Underfell Grillby x Reader [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Chubby Reader, F/M, Underfell, gyfmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedyeflag/pseuds/tiedyeflag
Summary: You're invited to a Gyfmas party at Grillby's bar. Somehow you and the bartender end up under the mistletoe.





	Gyftmas in July?

**Author's Note:**

> I got so many positive reviews for my last fellby/reader insert I was inspired to do more! Hope y'all enjoy :3

You had learned from your monster friends about the tradition of Gyftmas. It reminded you of Christmas, though to the monsters in the dangerous underground, it held more importance than a commercial holiday. It was a time to live, to be alive in a world where death could be just around the corner. 

To your surprise, you were invited to a Gyfmas party at Grillby’s bar on the surface. The invitation came in the form of a text by him. You set your texts from him to be in purple text bubbles to match his flames, much to his annoyance. He texted, “We’re having a Gyfmas party at my bar this Friday. You may come if you wish”. A bit distant and prim for a text, but you shrugged it off to just how he was. Or maybe he took pity on you because you were a shy, plump girl who was shunned for accepting monsters. Well, whatever. You had long accepted that, but dang if you weren’t going to miss out on an excuse for free food. Especially Grillby’s food.

Thus, at the end of the week, you found yourself at Grillby’s bar on a warm July evening. However, you weren’t expecting the place to be covered in tinsel and wreaths. Confused, you looked outside to make sure you were indeed at Grillby’s bar, and not some Christmas themed cafe. Nope, it was Grillby’s. Holiday decorations covered every inch of the once sleek, sophisticated bar. The granite countertops and dark mahogany chairs clashed against the bright red and green decor. 

You would have left in a befuddled mess if it weren’t for the smell of delicious food and your monster friends beckoning you over.

“So,” you asked between mouthfuls of mini burgers, “what’s with the Christmas decorations?”

Grillby shrugged. “Since entering the surface, many monsters have adopted the festive theme into their Gyfmas celebrations. Didn’t see the harm in indulging in it.”

Sans huffed, even grumpier than usual.

“What’s wrong, Sans? Run out of mustard?”

“Oh pay him no mind,” Grillby smirked. “He’s just tired from finally working off part of his tab.”

Sans grumbled as he chewed on the tip of his mustard bottle like a chew toy. You wondered if he’d actually break it off with his sharp, golden fangs. Shrugging, you popped more french fries into your mouth.

All in all, you enjoyed yourself. Eating great food, listening to music, and spending time with Grillby. Despite his self centered, vain, and flirtatious personality, you considered him a friend. Or at least, you’d like to be friends. You doubted he saw you as anything more than an obedient, maybe interesting, customer, but...oh well. You had more important things to worry about, like eating.

And the restroom.

You slid from the stool and turned. “Be right back,”

“Leaving so soon?” asked Grillby.

“I said I’d be right back! I’m just going to the restroom,” You walked away, not feeling Grillby’s eyes on your ass. You did feel his eyes when you returned thirty seconds later, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” piqued Sans. “Grillby’s stalls not big enough for your ass?” He guffawed.

Internally, you cringed but shook it off; no good being overly sensitive at a party. You crossed your legs and said, “There’s...a long line. And I think several people are puking in there.”

Grillby grimaced. He suddenly lifted up the divider between you and the bar and gestured you over. “Come on. You can use the employee bathroom in the back.”

“Thanks, Grillby!” You run past him and into the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time he let you use the restroom, so made a beeline there.

Once you were out of earshot, Grillby spun around and pierced a white-hot stare directly at Sans’s skull. Sans scowled in response. “What?”

“What was that just then?”

“What was  _ what?” _

Grillby leaned over, towering above the stout skeleton. “You daring to insult both my establishment and ____ in the same sentence right in front of me.”

“Oh--that your stalls not big enough for her fa--”

Gripping a glass, Grillby held it up between his and Sans’s face. “Not one more word degrading ____, or your tab will be the least of your worries.”

“Or what?”

The bartender tightened his grip. Knuckles turned white as steam leaked from between his fingers. The glass melted and distorted, dripping down his fist like crystal lava, drops falling to the counter with scorching hisses. He narrowed his eyes.

Sans shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He tilted his head. “No making fun of your crush.”

Cyan flashed across Grillby’s cheeks. He dropped the melted mess that remained of the glass. It fell with a dull clatter before Grillby hissed, “One word of this and your tab is  _ tripled. _ And I will not  _ spare _ you. _ ” _

The canines of Sans’s smile gleamed with mischief. Smirking, he leaned on his elbow and said, “I’m surprised you haven't made a move on her yet. Then again, didn’t take her for your type, either.”

Grillby’s flames flared, making the air around him shimmer with heat. He was ready to tell Sans he had no business with how he adored your honesty, your kindness, your curves--

“Grillby? Sans?”

Speak of the devil. Or angel, in Grillby’s eyes. There you were, standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, still drying your hands on the skirt of your dress. “What’d I miss?”

Grillby took the opportunity to walk over to you. He offered his hands. “Don’t ruin your dress. Here, let me dry your hands.”

“Oh, don’t worry! It’s just water. And it’s not like my dress is made of sugar.”

Sans suddenly piped up with, “I’d be more worried about what’s above you right now.”

“Huh?” You and Grillby looked up and--oh. 

The whole restaurant was covered head to toe in Christmas decorations. Therefore, the mistletoe hanging above the doorway blended right in. 

Before the overwhelming anxiety and anticipation could settle in your mind, Grillby plucked the mistletoe and crushed it in his hands. The scent of smoldering leaves filled the air as ash crumbled from the palm of his hand to the floor. For good measure, he stepped on it, his fine leather shoes against the tile.

“Gee, Grills, didn’t take ya’ for a chicken,” chuckled Sans.

Grillby pretended not to hear. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t hear you trying to stifle a chuckle. “What?”

“I-uh-I have got agree with Sans on that. Kinda figured you’d--”

Your voice left you when warm fingers cupped your chin while a hand held you by the waist. You only got a glimpse of Grillby’s expression before he leaned forward and--

Oh god.

Oh god were those lips? His lips? Against yours?!

Despite being made of fire, his lips were firm, oddly smooth, yet flames would flicker along the surface and against your lips. It was like fluid fire contained in a malleable state, like a balloon full of water, but very dry. And warm, almost too warm. Another fiery form brushed past your lips--a tongue, you realized. It was even more flexible than his lips and warmer. It didn’t push past your teeth, just tracing the texture of your incisors. You even felt steam as it made contact with your saliva. 

Before you could kiss back-- like it would happen within the next hundred years--Grillby pulled back. The faintest hiss of steam whispered between your lips, like a trail of saliva in a passionate human kiss. Grillby leaned back with the widest smirk on you had ever seen grace his face. “Don’t need some blasted plant to kiss you.”

“...”

“Speechless? No surprise.”

“...”

Grillby’s smug expression faltered. “____? You okay?”

Your eyes were as wide as golf balls, cheeks flushed, no surprise. But your face was in such shock it could be mistaken for...fear? Disgust? Grillby wasn’t sure but...it wouldn’t be the first time someone had cast those looks his way. He just didn’t expect it from you.

And you were the last person he wanted those looks from. He suddenly felt sick. “I didn’t burn you, did I?”

“I...I...I gotta go!!” You squeaked before sprinting back where you came. In your rush, you didn’t see the heartache in Grillby’s eyes, nor his hand outstretched to stop you. Yet he didn’t follow you as if his feet were glued to the ground.

* * *

 

Your mind raced as you splashed water onto your face. Locked in the employee bathroom, you kept staring at your reflection, bug-eyed and flushed.

“Why...How…?” You kept muttering nonsense as the same thoughts kept rolling back in your memory. Grillby, the flaming monster who loved himself, his bar, but maybe not you--just kissed you. And that was your first kiss! Well, okay, you had kissed family before, but still!

It was just because of Sans’s teasing, you reasoned. Because you couldn’t swallow your laugh. Because you unintentionally pressured Grillby to kiss a girl like you. You knew he could do far better. Though he had no steady girlfriend, you knew he had a handful of ‘friends with benefits’, all gorgeous and alluring. Why would he want anything romantic to do with a fatty like you? God, he was probably rinsing his mouth of your taste right about now.

_ Knock, knock! _

“____?” came Grillby’s voice from behind the door. “Are you in there?”

“Uh, I, um, I’m not done yet!”

“You just went.”

“I--I had to go again?”

“Really?”

“...yes?”

Grillby sighed. “Look, I’m not going to force you out. I just...just want to talk.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry you had to kiss me! You probably hate me--”

There came a dull thud like someone slammed their palm against the door. After a pause, Grillby said, “I could never hate you.”

You stepped closer to the door to hear better as he continued, “And there’s no need to apologize.”

“But--”

“No buts. If anyone should be apologizing it should be Sans.”

“Sans...?”

“He was the one who started it. And he was probably the one who hung up the mistletoe in the first place.”

A long, long pause took place before Grillby coughed. “...I...I’m sorry.”

You could tell by his voice that he was struggling with the words, his pride still fighting against him. Yet he did it.

With a click, the door was unlocked. Slowly, you opened it enough to peek outside. There stood Grillby, flames crackling more than usual. He was frowning, but with an oddly hopeful flicker in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, just...actually, that was my...first kiss,” You partially hid behind the door as you confessed. “And it took me by surprise.”

“Oh?”

“I mean...since when would someone like you kiss me, of all people?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, have you met me? I’m an anxious mess. And look!” You groped at your obvious tummy through your dress, making it jiggle. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even tolerate me.”

Grillby’s soul trembled. It felt as if his soul climbed up his throat and choked him with the words he wanted to say, but still struggling with his damn pride. How he wanted to correct you with his words, his lips, his touch...Yet he remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Anyway,” you said. “I...I’m sorry for chickening out like that.”

“...I think I can forgive that.”

“So...should we hug and make up?”

Grillby’s smirk returned, a touch playful. He opened his arms, waiting. It took you a second to realize he was taking you literally in an effort to cheer you up. The corners of your mouth quirked into a smile before you flung your arms around him. He too wrapped his arms around you.

He was so much taller than you that your head just barely reached his chest. You nestled your face against him, feeling his firm chest against your cheeks. His arms held you snuggly, one around your shoulders and another at your waist. You felt something atop your head, his chin, gently resting against you. His embrace was so strong and warm...

You felt...safe. Protected. Dare you to say, loved even.

You snapped out of your trance when you realized you had been embracing him for a few moments too long. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. And Grillby certainly wasn’t pulling away, so maybe you could stay like this a while longer...

“...illby! Grillby!!” came Sans’s voice from the bar. “Hey, Grillby! Need some mustard here! What’s taking you so long?!”

Grillby cursed under his breath while you pulled away. You said, “Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to--”

“____” he said. “It’s okay.”

“Oh...okay.” You stepped towards the bar when a hand fell upon your shoulder. You turned to Grillby.

“Meet me after the party.”

You could have sworn you saw him wink.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I don't know much about the Underfell AU outside of the fact that I really like Underfell Grillby. I don't know why I have horrible taste in fictional men. Thank goodness my taste in men is nonexistent in real life.
> 
> I'd honestly like to learn more about the AU if any friendly fans are willing to answer my questions and help me bounce ideas off! I fear I'm not getting some of the characters right. I'm looking at you underfell Sans. All I know is you're grumpy and like mustard.


End file.
